Vein

Mummy used to answer my questions with words. Real ones. Without a camera or caption. When she was in phase three, I could ask her all sorts of questions. I had asked her what it used to be like, when the sunshine was real. She had told me it was still real, we had just chosen a better way to feel it’s effects. She had adjusted the chemicals in my vein. I had felt a sudden warmth. She had said that it used to show on the skin. Before the virus, before sponsorships and mitts, people would tan from the inside outward. Sometimes it went wrong and red and it hurt, like a bad chemical reaction. She had said that it would be even worse now. Outside, you would be burnt immediately now that the world has been destroyed.

I had asked her if anyone still lived the old way. She had told me that some still went outside for content, but that adjusting your vein to avoid overload took more effort than photoshop.

I had asked her about the person who delivers the chemicals and the sponsorships. Weren't they real? Weren't they outside? She had told me that I was right. She had told me that she felt sorry for him, needing to live like that.

I had asked her what him was.

She had told me that I didn’t have to worry, I’d never have to be like him.

But I liked them, him. I’d never seen cracked skin anywhere else before. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to ask him what it was like without a vein.

She was the only person he ever saw in the house. The building had a peculiar facade of a standard home, but the door opened into an industrial foyer that led to another door. It smelt of aluminium and darkness.

He was to enter the first door after knocking. When he entered the strange foyer and knocked for a second time, the girl would open it by the doorknob. He would pass in the packages. For a long time, she never said anything, but he could see her studying him.

She always closed the door before he left the foyer.

Mummy had taught me all about Outside, and how it fell apart after the big virus. She taught me that we were so lucky to escape when we did, to work from home, to be influencers. Mummy explained that the phases were important, and that with more followers came more phases. More freedom. More funds.

Every day, my vein woke me up in time to answer the door when the packages were delivered. It put me to sleep after I had done my learning and filmed my content for the day.

Mummy showed me videos for each of the phases. This is where I learnt what they were.

The first phase was for infants. Infants weren’t expected to have followers, rather to gain more followers for their mothers to ensure that they are in phase three before the infant reaches phase two.

When an infant receives their vein, they begin phase two. This is a time of training. This is the time when they learn about their role. They practise sponsorships.

When they reach 100,000 followers, they are at phase three. This is when they learn about the Outside. They learn that it once was good, but now it’s not, and living inside where the vein gives us all the nutrients and endorphins and hormones that we need to live and create.

Phase four isn’t achieved by everyone. Many stop at three. Phase four begins when the influencer has one million followers. To prepare for this, you must make it possible for content to be created indefinitely using photoshop and simulation.

The reward for phase four is glorious sleep, where the vein gives you everything you need to dream happily forever.

One day, she spoke to him. He tried not to seem surprised.

“Is ‘Him’ your name?”, she asked.

He was confused. She noticed this in his face and quickly responded, “Mummy went into phase four after you dropped off the big packages yesterday. She can’t hear me anymore.”

This left him even more confused. Why couldn’t her mother hear?

Something else puzzled him. The girl had said that this had happened yesterday.

He always delivered their packages on Tuesday. He had delivered the big package a week ago.

“I’m Steven.” He told her, pointing to his badge. The girl gasped and shut the door.

How could he only be at seven? I had seven thousand followers when I was in phase one! I yearned to speak to mummy, but the most noise she had made since entering phase four was the rhythmic beep of her heart monitor.

Tomorrow, when he arrives, I will ask him more questions.

Why did he have those cracks on his skin?

How many other influencers did he deliver packages to?

And what was that necklace that we wore around his neck?

Was it a sponsorship?

It was gold, and a strange shape - pointed at the bottom with two mounds at the top.

They must have paid him a lot to wear it all the time.

The next time he made a delivery, she looked as if she were poised for something. She opened her mouth, he braced himself; he could sense when talk would be a tsunami.

But, then, she closed it again. Her eyes darted to his neck. She pointed.

“What is that?” She asked.

He thumbed the gold locket. Love swelled up within him.

“It belongs to my daughter. It’s very special to me. I wear it when I’m out at work to remember that I love her.”

“Love.” She repeated. She had no expression. Her emotion was neutral, academic.

She took the packages and closed the door.

Mummy used that word sometimes in captions and titles. People would comment “Omg, I love that shade on you”, “love this product”, “love your hair”.

She had taken that as a compliment.

“Love is good”, Mummy had said, “but likes are better.”

Each time he came, she asked a question. What was his daughter's name? Did he deliver packages to other people? What was it like Outside?

He’d answer her carefully.

Once, he had asked, “kid, where’s your mum?”

She had looked towards the heavy door leading into their house. A content smile came upon her countenance. He couldn’t quite fathom the sense that came over her. It was a quietly sad sort of pride.

“She is dreaming.”

Once, when he left, I stayed in the foyer a little longer. I wanted to catch a glimpse of the Outside as he left the door. He noticed, turning his head to look at me before shutting the door. I saw light and green.

As he left, I heard something fall. The object reflected the light before the door closed. Cautiously, I went towards it. I squatted beside it.

It was the gold necklace he wore. To remind him of his daughter.

In an uncharacteristically uncalculated move, I moved towards the door. My hands were upon the handle when I finally stopped to think.

I looked down at the vein in my hand. I remembered what mummy had said about adjusting the vein to avoid overload.

I considered it for a moment. I looked at the bag of fluids attached beside me.

The necklace felt smooth against my palm. I ran her fingers upon the mounds and point. As they travelled down the side, they found a latch. I pressed it.

Inside, there was a photo of him with his daughter. They were hugging. They were laughing.

Mummy had never hugged me.

I pulled at the tube connecting me to my vein. As it dislodged, something shifted inside my chest.

I pushed against the door, and was met by blinding light.

Opening my eyes, I stopped. There were people. Everywhere. They were smiling. Talking. Walking.

Were they followers? Were they influencers?

They didn’t have veins.

As I fell, I felt something cold and earthy against my skin. Before the black, I saw green.

He clicked on the article on his feed, and the wind was knocked from his chest.

Famous influencer was found medically dead in own home after her daughter escaped. The young girl, who does not know her age and cannot recall her name, stumbled out of her Sydney home on Tuesday afternoon. The girl was psychologically unstable and confused. Authorities discovered her mother, medically dead from overdose, her heart stabilised by life support within the home. Neighbours report that they have never seen the mother or daughter. Please call crime stoppers with any information.

He picked up his phone and typed in the number listed.